


It Don't Matter to the Sun

by SFDoll



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Jane Austen Inspired Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Redemption, Regret, Rejection, Romance, Second Chances, Zombie Cure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 09:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SFDoll/pseuds/SFDoll
Summary: Being a hero was supposed to feel like being on top of the world, but what if at the same time you're saving a city you let you let pride, fear, and the opinions of others rob you of the person you love?  In one moment Peyton Charles let happiness slip away.  It's a moment she's come to regret bitterly.Ultimately a modern take on Jane Austen's Persuasion, but starting with a massive action backstory to set the stage for Blaine's redemption and all the changes of a post cure world.





	It Don't Matter to the Sun

Sparks flickered on the dusty breeze like fireflies roused from a hedgerow as huge sections of the wall surrounding New Seattle collapsed into rubble. The noise and searing updrafts from the explosions carried the embers higher into the inky sky, where they caught on the currents of air and drifted in their own little aerial ballet high above the chaos below. Flames licked along the walls of nearby structures and coiffed treetops like blazing crowns of hair coiled upon their heads.

Throngs of human and zombie bodies slipped through the freshly made openings, slinking under the cover of night through the death zone, while tanks and troops had been diverted to deal with the marching cult of killer zombies that Angus McDonough had rallied against the military patrols. He didn't care whether the human residents of Seattle survived, but he would be damned if he let God's chosen zombies be wiped from the face of the Earth. When Blaine had refused to join his suicide mission, their final parting had turned vicious.

Blaine's people and Liv's coyotes helped herd the refugees along the escape routes on the streets and through the ruins of the wall, while Peyton monitored the news and directed the mass evacuation from City Hall. Police officers fought desperately to keep order as fear and desperation swelled. The rumbling rumors of impending nuclear launch had grown into an alarming din not to be ignored as the zombies of Seattle reached the perilous cusp of starvation. An angry mob was even now descending upon Filmore Graves with the sole purpose of taking Chase Graves's head. All of the private military forces were engaged in trying to protect their headquarters without creating another bloodbath.

"We need to keep everyone moving calmly," Liv told Ravi in a tense and frustrated voice as they tended to more injuries brought on by the press of the crowd. His dark eyes looked up from the dislocated collarbone they were setting for a young child knocked from his mother's arms by the stampede, and Ravi gave a grim nod of agreement. The evacutation had been running for hours, and exhaustion and frayed tempers had become serious dangers. Even Liv and Ravi were starting to feel the effects.

"After a week long news frenzy about how the city is on the verge of collapsing or being bombed, we're probably lucky the panic isn't worse," Ravi replied, "Hopefully, as the crowds thin we can get our more delicate patients evacuated." All eyes had been looking towards the sky for days as the rumors grew, and people seemed to be searching for the signs of a rocket trail against the blue that would mark the arrival of a final flash of light--the last thing any of them would ever see. Liv gently stroked the dark hair of the still crying child and gave him an encouraging smile while gingerly returning him to the care of his worried parents.

A young man with curly, ginger hair burst into the tent. He didn't bother to try to tiptoe through the patients lining the tent, merely cleared his throat to catch their attention. "Don E. called to say the explosives went off without a hitch, but there's been a disturbance at the southernmost exit point. They're rerouting people till it's dealt with. Blaine's heading back into the city for the... um... final evacuation group," Tanner announced without preamble. He didn't wait for a response before disappearing back through the flap to return to his tasks outside.

As Blaine got further into the city the crowds and traffic thinned and then disappeared all together, and he responded by pressing his foot against the accelerator until his sleek hematite sports car was racing through the deserted streets at dangerous speeds. He'd paid a fortune for the Audi R8 V10 Plus itself and a second fortune for the turbo option, but the result had been the fastest car he'd ever had the pleasure to drive. His blue eyes concentrated on the line of black asphalt he was tracing in his racing whip, but his mind too was filled with fears of what retributions the news of this evacuation could bring from the rest of the US. There was one person he had to get to safety still.

Blaine didn't even bother with a parking space. He slung the door shut behind himself, and he took the stairs two at a time as he rushed towards the conference room Peyton was using for a base of operations. The acting mayor of New Seattle stood at the center of a circle of volunteers from assorted departments across the city. Ringing cellphones and competing conversations added to the air of urgency and barely controlled confusion. As calls concluded, information would be shouted to Peyton and the others who were tracking the situation on tablets, maps, and a giant whiteboard.

Even if Floyd Baracus hadn't been ousted from office due to his infamous carousing and a scandal connecting his campaign to the murder of a dominatrix who had filmed him in a very compromising situation and the attempted cover up of said murder, Blaine couldn't imagine the former mayor being able to manage the current crisis. He found himself thankful that Peyton was the one in charge instead.

"Time to move," Blaine announced, waving his hands as though he were directing several tons of aircraft down a runway. Instead of following his directions, all heads turned towards Peyton to await her orders. When none were forthcoming they all turned back to their tasks.

Peyton looked up from her tablet at the sound of his voice. "We're losing time because of that south exit. Worse yet, the military is cutting through our distraction faster than we counted on. They're getting ready to deploy their troops to the other breaks in the wall."

"All the more reason to get moving," Blaine replied. His voice sounded unusually strained with urgency instead of his normal veneer of humorous detachment. He tapped his wrist twice with his index finger. "Every passing minute makes it harder to escape, and we have no idea if or when reprisals might start. You and I can head towards the south exit, and you can fill me in on the decoy situation on the way," he told Peyton. "These people need to evacuate _now_. Any word on whether Major secured the General's daughter?"

Peyton nodded and clapped her hands to draw attention onto herself. Phonecalls went silent, people stopped in their tracks, and all eyes turned towards her. "Thank you, everyone! It's time to go. Follow your designated escape routes; police escorts are waiting outside. You all know where to rendezvous outside the city. I'll see you there. Good luck, and be safe," Peyton announced. With practiced precision people began packing up their scant belongings and equipment, and Blaine wondered how many emergency drills they had undergone to train for crisis situations.

Peyton grabbed her purse and satchel, prepared to follow Blaine. In a softer voice meant just for his ears she said, "I haven't heard from Major, but we knew it might be too chaotic at FG for him to be able to update us." She felt Blaine's hand against the small of her back, as he escorted her to the waiting vehicle. Even without looking she knew that he was scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger, and his other hand was ready to draw the gun hidden beneath his suit jacket.

The dawn was breaking over the city as they stepped out the doors and headed towards the waiting car. A halo of light kissed the edges of the buildings, and the rim of the sky seemed to have been bleached by the imminent arrival of the sun, which would replace the pale gloom with warm pinks and golds as it climbed above the horizon. Blaine opened the passenger's side door for Peyton, and she slid into the front seat. "Was there a lot of crime out there?" Peyton asked.

"Saw a little bit of looting," Blaine said. He closed the door behind her, and he quickly took his place behind the wheel. "I'm sure there's more nefarious stuff going on out there, but most folks are more concerned with their survival than trying to capitalize on the situation." The engine revved, and they were off and running. Peyton jumped in her seat, clutching her seatbelt in her fist until she got used to the way the world streaked past their windows. She slowly relaxed putting her faith in Blaine to get them safely to their destination.

"The troops and tanks were all rerouted to gate six to deal with your father. Even a thousand zombies can only last so long though. Troops have already killed almost three-quarters of the zombies." Peyton looked at Blaine, who was busy concentrating on the road ahead of them. She noted that he hadn't bothered to ask if Angus had been among the casualties. "The south gate has been overrun with a militant anti-zombie group, who feel the whole city should die rather than have even one zombie escape."

"If that's their criteria for success they've already failed," Blaine jeered. "Let's see if we can throw a few more wrenches into their plans." An eager leer spread across his face, already looking forward to the havoc and destruction he was about to unleash. Riding in a speeding quicksilver racing car beside the head rider of the apocalypse, Peyton felt an excitement she knew she shouldn't stirring within her.

When they began to get near the gate Blaine instructed her to reach into the glove compartment for the spare handgun. Blaine steered with one hand while reaching for the gun in his jacket with the other. He took the second gun from Peyton. He hit the performance button on the steering wheel, using the controls to switch into DRY mode. Peyton could see a notice about reduced stability pop up on the display. Then he reached across and held down the traction control button, turning it off as well and triggering another warning message. "We're coming in fast. I'm gonna ease off the speed. When I give the word, turn the wheel towards you. Then steer a donut for me. I'll handle the rest," he said in a husky voice. "Let's try not to flip this thing. Admittedly, it'd make one hell of a distraction, but I'd like to keep the car and us in one piece."

Peyton goggled at him. "Are you kidding me?!" she shouted as the gate came into view.

Blaine was already rolling down his window. Ahead of them Peyton could see a group of armed men and women dressed in camouflage and American flags nervously leveling their guns at the gigantic glass and steel bullet hurtling towards them.

"Take the wheel," Blaine said, reaching out the window, guns cocked and readied, while Peyton tried to keep them smoothly on course. "Now!" he screamed, and Peyton turned the wheel of the still speeding vehicle and silently prayed to any deity willing to help them.

Time slowed. The car swung sideways, Blaine's guns blazing as his side of the vehicle turned towards the would-be militia. "Now crank it!" he called a heartbeat later, and Peyton jerked the wheel hard. The engine roared as Blaine tapped the accelerator again. She held her breath waiting for them to flip over, but instead they drifted into a tightening turn.

Militia members scattered or were mowed down by the hail of bullets Blaine fired into their midst. Peyton steered into the donut, trying to control them as as they spun, and smoke billowed up from the screeching tires. Their momentum propelled the car forward into the square the militia had been occupying. The burnout from their tires left a line of looping circles like a giant doodle scrawled across the pavement, until they finally slowed enough to spin in roughly one place in the middle of the square spewing bullets until Blaine brought them to a stop lowering his empty guns.

When the coast was clear Blaine and Liv's coalition came out from the cover they had taken around the gate area to make short work of any remaining threats. A shorter man with a shaved head popped up from behind a stack of supply crates at the edge of the mayhem. "And he sticks the landing!" Don E. shouted, raising his arms above his head and shaking his fists in triumph.

A burly man in a camo baseball cap and a shirt depicting a bald eagle in front of a waving flag lurched out from one of the side alleys, rushing at Don with a machete in one meaty paw. Don casually shot the man in the face before turning his attention back to Blaine. "Don't take this the wrong way but that entrance is going to be in my spank bank for years," Don exclaimed throwing his arms outward his palms facing upward and his head thrown back as if basking in their glory.

"Yeah. Thanks for not making it weird," Blaine replied dryly, but Peyton could see Blaine secretly beaming with pride beneath his gruff facade. Her heart still pounding in her throat, Peyton peeled her stiff fingers off the steering wheel. In unison she and Blaine took a deep breath and leaned back into their seats with their eyes tightly shut.

"So, was it good for you?" Don asked, approaching the car. Peyton snerked, and then she and Blaine laughed until he had to wipe tears from the corner of his eyes--at least until he got out of the car and spied the rubber left behind on the pavement. He winced, checking the treads on his tires, and Peyton took the opportunity to get out of the car and stretch. She came around the front of the car to join Blaine and Don E., who was on his phone relaying the message that the gate was back in business and ready to handle the overflow. Don E. frowned at the dramatic faces Blaine was making as he fussed over his vehicle. "C'mon man! That entrance was worth the price of admission. I will _buy_ you new tires if you'll stop making that face."

"It's not the pricetag. I just don't want anything to go wrong with the tires while we're getting the hell out of the blast zone asap. I think we're good." He rose from where he was kneeling beside the car, nodding his head in satisfaction.

"Cheery thought," Peyton grimaced, and Blaine shrugged back at her. "What did you do with the people you had to send away?" she asked Don E.

"Oh, we didn't send anybody away," Don E. replied flicking his hands and nodding like a magician particularly proud of his next trick. "I knew you'd come to the rescue, so we used to time to find people who could drive commercial vehicles and rounded up buses and trucks. We're ready to ship out. The roads are the only transport routes safe from landmines anyhow, and our drivers are armed... just in case. Did you know Candy could drive a bus?"

Blaine rubbed his hands along the sides of Don E.'s head as though ruffling the fur of a particularly good puppy and, standing on his tiptoes, kissed Don on the top of the head. "That was brilliant!" Blaine congratulated. Peyton smiled at the pair of them.

"When the hell did Candy get a commercial license?" Blaine asked, still patting Don on the back of the head while the shorter man laughed.

"I think it was her backup after the whole stewardess-"

"I hate to interrupt such a touching moment, but we should probably get this convoy on the move," Peyton reminded them with a gentle clearing of her throat. Blaine mouthed the word "yeah" letting go of Don's head and gesturing towards the car for Peyton. He and Don E. watched Peyton circle back around to her side and climb in. The two men shared a look of respect, before giving each other a casual three fingered wave goodbye that resembled a fingergun.

"Yes, ma'am! Is that a mayoral order?" Don asked, "Oh! And when I get my key to the city does that actually unlock anything? I've always wondered that." Don E. winked, already pulling out his phone to alert Candy and the rest of the waiting drivers.

Blaine reloaded his guns while the humans and zombies under Don's direction quickly cleared away the beginnings of barricades that the militia had hastily begun to throw together, and then Peyton and Blaine were off again--flying ahead of the trucks like a dolphin riding the bow wave of a ship... at least until they pulled far enough ahead to lose sight of the others. Suddenly Peyton understood Blaine's concern about the tires as he engaged the turbo on the straightaway, and they zoomed off like a rocket. He fiddled with a couple more buttons on the steering wheel, and Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin began blaring in the cabin.

Peyton wondered if Blaine was playing the music because it distracted him from his worries or if he was celebrating the exhilaration of cutting loose. Perhaps he was psyching himself up for whatever happened when they reached the checkpoint on the other side of the death zone. Looking at the speedometer on the display, she decided she'd rather let it remain a mystery than distract him with conversation. Either way it strengthened her impression that Blaine lived his life with his own internal musical soundtrack, every moment fitted to the perfect song in his head. She wondered what was next on his playlist.

When they reached the checkpoint a bearded man with reddish hair greeted them from the booth alongside the gate. "Any zombies to declare?" the man asked with a conspiratorial grin. Tears streamed down the man's cheeks, and Peyton couldn't stop staring at the stranger in fatigues as she wondered if he'd been forced to use tear gas to take control of the checkpoint. He certainly smiled brightly enough upon seeing them that the tears didn't seem to be of any other origin that her brain could make sense of. The handful of other men milling about seemed unaffected, however.

"Carl!" Blaine cheered in greeting. "Looks like you've got everything under control here. We're the advance guard. You've got a whole convoy of buses and trucks coming somewhere behind us." Blaine's eyes too seemed drawn towards the tears spilling down Carl's cheeks, but he made no comment about the waterworks.

Peyton frowned to herself as she continued to stare at the man in confusion while he and Blaine chatted amiably. "Did you get teargassed? If it hurts I might have-" she finally broke in.

Carl laughed, waving off her concern. "Oh! Nobody teargassed me. This?" he inquired, gesturing to his eyes. "It's just a medical condition. We didn't need to use any force. I just made a heartfelt appeal to the guys we were already bribing. Our inside guys didn't want all those innocent people on their consciences... and they _love_ money."

"Can't fault their priorities, especially when they work in our favor," Blaine agreed, and Carl tipped them a nod as he raised the gate for them to drive through. For the first time all day Blaine drove casually, visibly relaxed as he negotiated traffic and switched the dashboard display to the navigation system.

"Nice to see we're no longer traveling at airplane speeds. I was starting to feel like I had a rocket up my ass," Peyton said, stretching and relaxing into her seat. "You were really that nervous about the bomb?"

"Yeah. Never underestimate how dangerous scared people with their finger on a trigger are. We didn't tear ourselves apart and do the job for them, so it's only a matter of time until they step in and do it themselves," Blaine said.

Peyton knew he was right. She studied Blaine's profile as he smothly maneuvered them into the turn lane while searching for the motel where they were supposed to meet the others. She swallowed. "Blaine, I wanted to thank you. You've been an incredible help the last few months. Once the US stopped brain shipments, there's no way we could have fed ten thousand zombies for as long as we did without you."

Blaine's chest puffed up visibly at her compliment, but his spine suddenly seemed glass rigid and brittle with nervousness. "I was well compensated. Besides, zombies wouldn't be free to spend money to eat in my restaurants in the middle of a war with humans, right?" She realized that Blaine got uncomfortable every time she tried to thank him for his help, and she wondered if Blaine really had that little experience with people thanking him or if it was just around her that he got like this.

He turned into the parking lot of the Remember Inn Motel and pulled into an empty space. Then he turned off the engine. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead, and he seemed to be waging a war within himself. His mouth opened as if he were preparing to speak, but nothing came out. Without a word he opened his door and headed towards the office to check into their rooms with Peyton curiously following after. They'd reserved most of the motel under the guise of a business convention.

They returned a short time later with their keys, and Blaine went to the front of the car unlocking the trunk, opening it, and pulling Peyton's lone bag from the storage compartment. He set it on its wheels upon the cold sea of black asphalt that surrounded the squat concrete structure. Two stories with a flat roof and a concrete walk flanked by a brown metal railing that ran around the upper story, it looked like one of any number of quickly constructed, cheap motels. The name on the tall sign that floated above the parking lot was all that distinguished it from any other motel nearby.

"You didn't bring anything?" Peyton asked, her brow furrowed in distress as she stared at the now empty trunk. Blaine's pale brows made a beeline for his hairline, and a surprised smile slowly brightened his features at the dismay in her voice.

"My stuff is in the inside storage, behind the seats," he told her, crooking his thumb towards the cabin of the vehicle. He burrowed his hands into his pockets, rising onto the balls of his feet before rocking back onto his heels. "I'll dig it out in a minute, but there's something I've been wanting to ask you," he said. He licked his lips as though his mouth had suddenly become too dry to speak. "I know I've done things in my life that I can't really fix, and I'll never be a saint. I'm still trying anyways." He stared at her with eyes filled with a tentative hope, and Peyton's heart suddenly tried to hammer an escape route through her ribs.

Blaine scratched his chin. "The thing is I was hoping that you and I... that we might not be one of those unfixable things. I'm not asking you to jump right in, Peyton. I know I screwed up big, but what I felt and... wanting to change... that was all real.... I just need to know if there is any future in which you could see us as a possibility. If there's any chance at all."

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she felt like all the air had suddenly been knocked from her lungs. "You don't have to answer right now, and I promise I won't ask again," he assured her, his words flowing into one another in his haste, as he nervously studied her glassy eyes filled with distress.

Peyton was torn between two deep-seated emotions. She longed to throw her arms around Blaine, kisssing him in a frenzy and telling him that over the last few months she'd seen many possibilities for a future between them during the long nights they'd spent working together on the brain shortage problem or while watching him take ridiculous gambles, risking life and limb to smuggle in the brains they desperately needed to survive. She longed to tell him that her feelings for him had never gone away. At the same time she wanted to flee in terror.

She'd thought that nothing could ever hurt more than discovering Blaine's criminal history after their first night as lovers, going from being giddy at the promise of a new realtionship to the desolation of learning the darkest acts Blaine was capable of performing. Then he'd taken the second cure and lost his memory, and Peyton had jumped at the chance to be with this new version of Blaine, who had saved her life and seemed to be every inch the man she'd first believed him to be. She'd felt even more a fool when he finally admitted that he'd faked the amnesia long after his memory returned in order to keep the fresh start he'd been given. No man had ever made her feel happier or more free to be herself, and no man had ever hurt her more either. Now he was asking her to make herself vulnerable to him and risk her heart on him for the third time.

She heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Liv in her head warning, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I could have been cured, Peyton, but he took it from me. And you're looking to bring him back into our lives." She could still hear the long list of accusations Liv had against Blaine too, and Peyton knew that if she got hurt again she was on her own. On top of all that they would have to manage the snare that came with Blaine being a zombie.

Poised on the verge of two heartbreaks, Peyton clasped her fist. She clenched it tight fighting back the quaver in her voice. "I'm sorry, Blaine," she began. "There's just too much that I-I can't get past. The lies, and the bad history between you and my friends, and never knowing if you're actually who I think you are... It's all too much. There really is no future in which I can see us together." Her stomach plummeted as she forced herself to lie to him.

She saw the flash of pain reflected in his eyes before he squeezed them shut and nodded his acceptance. She knew from experience he would accept her decision without protest. The terrified part of her was grateful that he would respect her decision. The rest of her wished that he would fight for her for once. Of course, she couldn't blame Blaine if he simply wanted her to stop rejecting him in the first place.

"We should probably get settled and try to get some rest before everyone else arrives," Blaine was saying, raising the handle on her suitcase and leaving it for her as he turned back to the car. He retrieved Peyton's brown leather satchel from behind the passenger's seat, and he held it out to her. "Lots to do once the rest of your... war council gets here," he noted wryly, his armor fully in place again as he tried to present an unruffled veneer.

His prediction proved accurate, but it was hard for Peyton to keep her mind from wandering back to Blaine while sitting through the next several hours of meetings--especially when she heard Don E. arrive at Blaine's room next door, his loud greeting and laughter easily carrying through the walls. The sounds died off quickly, and Peyton's thoughts kept drifting off to what was happening next door. _Is it so quiet because something's wrong? Are they planning something nefarious? Maybe they went outside._

She stayed alone in her room even after the meetings concluded for the night, afraid to venture outside the safety of those four walls and run into Blaine again. She remembered the flicker of pain and dying hope in his eyes, and she had no idea what she would even say to him. _What if I open my mouth, and the truth falls out?_ she worried. _Because if I see that look from him again, I won't be able to stop myself._ The time alone did nothing to help her resolve as it only gave her more opportunity to think. Despite having only had three hours sleep in the past couple days, her mind refused to quiet, alternating between worrying about the rest of her friends and obsessing over the earlier scene with Blaine.

Finally she heard Liv and Ravi's happy bantering from just beyond the door, and she rushed outside to fling herself at her best friend. "What took you so long? I was starting to worry," Peyton told her. Liv hugged her back, and Peyton melted into the embrace feeling the exhaustion from carrying the lives of an entire city upon her shoulders catching up with her. Ravi went to check in while Liv joined Peyton in Peyton's room for drinks and girl talk.

"We had to travel slowly with a few of our patients. We had a pregnant woman with a partial abretion of the placenta who was still too early to deliver, and a few children who needed critical care. We got them all safely transported and settled in with some friendly doctors at the local hospital. All reports say the city is still standing. Ravi and I have some good news that should help your dealings with the the folks in DC, unless Blaine already told you. Who am I kidding? I'm sure he couldn't wait to gloat."

Peyton stared at Liv in befuddlement, her brows drawn. Liv looked taken aback. Peyton shook her head as she prepared to ask Liv what she was talking about, but Liv cut her off first. " _We have the cure_ , and we can make as much as we want now," Liv said. Her eyes shone, and her broad smile beamed back at Peyton while she waited for Peyton's gasp of shock and joy.

Peyton's jaw hung open, and her eyes goggled. "You-what did you just say?"

Liv hugged Peyton again. Then she held Peyton's face between her palms so that the taller woman was looking Liv in the face while Liv spoke with exaggerated clarity. "I said we have the cure. Blaine... well, he's still an asshole, but he used science brain and GCMS to finally identify what the boat party utopium was tainted with. That part's a long story, but he managed to replicate the cure. He and Ravi have agreed to share the patent. That's a saga on its own. "

Peyton staggered. "That's-that's wonderful! Oh my God, Liv! You must be ecstatic! I'm so happy for you! He didn't say a word about it. Why didn't he say anything?"

"Maybe he thought I already had. He had a long talk with Ravi and me when he picked up your bag last night. We decided that we needed to wait until after the evacuation to make the official news announcement. We worried that the government might not believe it with the current, tense climate. Even if we cured somebody on television, people would still have to take our word for it, and it's not an easy thing to prove. I mean, unless they have the chance to examine the person themselves, they really just have our word to go on."

Peyton nodded, her mind still scrambling to catch up. "I think I need the long story." Peyton ran her fingers through her hair and continued to look shell-shocked.

"You remember Major's hooker friend?"

Peyton hadn't realized her eyes could get any wider. "The one he gave the cure to before she got blown up?"

"That's the one. Blaine helped Major track her down, but when Major found her she was afraid that Major and the entire Filmore-Graves army couldn't protect her from the guy keeping her captive. She refused to come with him, and he gave her his dose of the cure. Turns out that when she turned back up in town her first stop was to see Blaine."

Peyton raised her eyebrow, resisting the urge to say something catty. Her crossed arms and expression said it for her.

"She'd bought her freedom from the guy holding her by telling him about the cure... and where to find it."

"Wait! So Natalie stole the cure?" Peyton exclaimed, her indignance so thick it rolled off her like a chilling fog.

"Well, technically it was one of Osborn Oates's henchmen," Liv replied, her head waggling back and forth as she spoke. Her diplomatic air didn't last long before, she was filled with excitement again. "But get this! Natalie wasn't just a prostitute; she was also a smuggler! She used to travel around the world smuggling diamonds for Oates and parcels for Mr. Boss too. That's why her destinations were so unusual when she told Major about her travels. Cambodia to buy blackmarket gems. Montenegro to have them cut by an expert who was on the run. Tokyo to deal with the Yakuza. She pulled a switch on Oates, and then she took off with the real cures. He'd already been cured, apparently, so he didn't search too hard, figuring he'd catch her when she tried to sell them."

"So she decided to sell them to Blaine, so she could stay hidden," Peyton finished, as the pieces fit together in her mind.

"Exactly!" Liv exclaimed with a look of vicious, shared triumph. "Since Blaine wasn't on good terms with any of us at the time, and Natalie died in the explosion, Blaine sat on the cures until he could come up with a plan." Peyton groaned and rolled her eyes, and Liv could clearly see her mouth the word "idiot" to herself.

"So he showed up last night with a smile and cures for everybody... Wait! You're still a zombie! Why haven't you taken the cure yet?" Peyton demanded.

"It's killing me to wait, but I volunteered to be part of the cure reveal. Ravi told me earlier that if I didn't stop drooling over ice cream and pizza he would stick me with the cure and spoon feed me just to get me to stop talking about it," Liv explained, and they both laughed.

After a moment Peyton's smile faltered, and a sad expression crept across her face. She peered at the wall that seperated her room from Blaine's. She remembered the hopeful way he'd looked at her earlier. "He must have thought you told me," she whispered.

"I've been _dying_ to share it with you, but this is the first chance we've even had to be together. It seemed way too distracting to tell you over the phone while you were trying to run a city wide evacuation. Honestly, I wish we'd have had more time to talk to him about it ourselves, it was such a shock that our minds couldn't even think of some of the questions we wanted to ask until hours later. I would have told you sooner if things weren't so crazy."

"I know, Sweetie," Peyton assured her. She brushed a stray strand of white hair out of Liv's eyes and tucked it behind her ear. "We are going to go out and have the most incredible meal to celebrate once you're cured." Peyton dabbed at the corners of her eyes using her thumbs, and Liv hugged her again, bubbling about all the things she planned to do to commerate being human once more.

They were interrupted by Ravi's rap at the door, as he came to collect Liv. "I feel like I've been up for days, and I am so ready to climb into bed," he announced to Liv as the door swung open for him. He waved a burgundy plastic key card at her enticingly.

Liv planted her hands on her hips and stared up at him. "Oh, good," Liv yawned at him. "I'm feeling pretty exhausted right now myself. I was thinking maybe I should consult a doctor."

Ravi flicked a brow at her. "I know exactly what to prescribe for a good night's sleep," he promised giving her a sultry look, and Liv grinned and tucked herself under his arm with a gleeful noise.

Peyton gave the pair of them an indulgent chuckle as the they said their goodnights, and she saw them off at the door. Watching the happy pair stumble off in a cloud of cotton candy bliss towards their own room sent a pang of loneliness through her heart. She stared at the dark window of Blaine's room next door. Why on Earth did it have to be Blaine DeBeers of all people who set her heart alight?

It was still too early for him to be asleep in her experience, so she determined to knock on his door. "Blaine?" she called loudly. No answer. She tried again, louder. "Blaine! I need to talk to you," she insisted even more loudly. Turning towards the parking lot, she realized for the first time that Blaine's car was gone. A feeling of wrongness stirred in her gut at the sight of the empty parking space. She felt sick in the pit of her stomach, a horrible clawing sensation as if a wildcat was pacing around her insides.

 _Maybe he went out for a meal or a drink_ , Peyton told herself. She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and rang Blaine from her speed dial. She counted the rings before it went to voicemail. "Blaine, it's Peyton. I really need to talk to you. It's about this afternoon. It's-it's really important, so just call me back when you get this message."

She could hear music and Don Eberhard's nasal voice coming from a nearby room, and she rushed towards the sound, her footsteps betraying her nervousness. Too fast. Too desperate. Too like the panicked splashing of a drowning woman searching for the shore. She tapped her knuckles against the wood, and within moments Don E. threw open the door.

The sounds of music became a cacophony as the portal swung open for her, but Don E.'s voice still easily carried over the song. "Hey! Surprised to see you here," Don slurred as he swayed in the doorway. Over Don's shoulder Peyton could see the crying man from earlier dancing with a very buxom blonde, Tanner pouring a drink for another woman Peyton vaguely remembered as Candy, and several more faces she didn't know the names for. There was no sign of Blaine. "Come in and join the fiesta," Donald offered with a sweep of his arm. "We're going to find out how blotto a zombie can get."

"Thanks, but... actually, I was looking for Blaine," Peyton told him, her voice suddenly uncertain. "He doesn't appear to be in his room, and his phone is going to voicemail. I really need to talk to him."

Don E. rested his shaved head against the edge of of the door as he studied her without a word. His eyes grew guarded, and Peyton could see him judging her. "Yeah, if it's about the brain bizz, you can tell me. I'm gonna be handling that now... for however much longer it lasts."

Peyton started at the unexpected news. "No. It's not about brains," she said. "It's about... something else. I just really need to see Blaine right now." Uncomfortable looks passed from person to person in the room. She felt scared, and she didn't want to cry in front of a room filled with strangers. Don stepped outside and closed the door behind himself.

"Blaine's gone," Don E. said. Something in his expression hardened. He stepped away from the room, retreating to the relative shadows of the sidewalk where the overhang from the upper walk shielded him from the harsh glare of the streetlamps. "He said he needed a clean break. Just took off shortly after I arrived. He left me the businesses back in Seattle. He didn't take his phone, and even he doesn't know where he's going."

"That's crazy. People don't just walk away from their entire lives at the drop of a hat!" Peyton protested.

"Depends how big the hat is," Don snarked. "His dad just died, even if he was a child abusing piece of crap. His whole world's been upside down for about the past year. He's in love with someone who told him they have no chance at a future. Now the whole world is about to change again. Why wouldn't he think this was the time for a fresh start?" Don's normally cow-like brown eyes glowered at her, glassy and resentful. Since the death of his twin, Blaine had become Don E.'s surrogate brother. Don E. clearly blamed Peyton at least in part for taking Blaine away from him now too.

"Why the hell didn't he tell me what he was planning?" Peyton growled to herself as she brought her hand to her forehead. Her heart hammered in her chest and her lungs burned as her mind raced with ways of trying to find Blaine before he slipped out of her reach forever. "Oh, God! Did he take the cure yet?!" she demanded, grabbing Don E. by the shoulder.

"He said he didn't want to give you an ultimatum. He just needed to know where he stood before he made his decision," Don E. told her in a voice filled with misery. "I dunno if he took the cure yet..."

Peyton's heart sank. Even if by some miracle she found Blaine, would he know who she was? _It's not like he's going to completely move on in just a few days of amnesia_ , she reassured herself, while she pictured him doing exactly that. _How long does it take to put down roots? What if he doesn't want to come back?_

"Not sure why you're so surprised," Don E. commented as he studied her in the dim light. He rolled his eyes. "It's not like he hasn't done this before."

"You're telling me he's just up and walked away from his entire life before?"

"What else would you call his little amnesia stunt?" Don E. challenged with a flourish of his arms. She could tell that he had built up to a full temper with the complete abandon that came with being sloshed out of his mind. Peyton closed her eyes with a grimace, and Don E. gave a snort. "He confessed the truth to you himself, and you still couldn't forgive him... That's the problem with you goodie goodie types! I teamed up with his _abusive dad_ , _stole_ his clients, _sabotaged_ his relationship with you, and nearly _killed_ him! The daffy sonnovabitch _still_ forgave me and made me his partner! Then he saved me and the good doctor from those _inbred rednecks_." Don E.'s voice rose and fell with embarrassing spikes in volume, as he spewed his ire at her. He raised his head and lifted his arms slightly to the side, hollering into the night as he reached the part about the zombie truthers.  

His lip curled, and his eyes burned into her. "When Angus decided to repent and play the loving father, Blaine was even ready to forgive the man who beat him on the regular when he was a kid. That one was clearly a bridge too far... " His voice went from a venomous snarl to biting cynicism before Don E.'s anger melted away, and his features took on a haunted thoughtful look. "Maybe if he didn't try the anger would've kept eating him alive, or maybe it's cause a part of him is still just like any other kid who wanted his dad to love him," Don E. added in an empty voice. His expression faded back to the same look of dull misery that he'd worn before, his eyes fixed on a random point as he looked inward instead of at the world around him.

Peyton understood the depth of Don E.'s pain over Blaine's departure the same way that she knew her own. They were the two people closest to him in what Peyton realized was a ragtag family he'd begun to build around himself. "Yeah. Family's hard," she acknowledged. She wasn't sure if she was speaking more about Blaine and Angus or Blaine and Don--or even Blaine and herself. Blaine had begun to feel like home during their time together, but putting a name to the role Blaine played in her life was still complicated and terrifying.

"I can't even be mad at him this time," Don E. said. His lips quivered and his nose crinkled up as his eyes filled with tears. He turned around so that Peyton couldn't see his face, and his shoulders hunched as he crossed his arms over his stomach. Hearing his quiet sniffle, Peyton painfully swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

 _Maybe he didn't tell me about the cure because he was testing me to see if he was enough or if it was just the grand gesture that I was attracted to_ , a cruel voice thought in the back of Peyton's mind. _Maybe he was testing me to see if I could forgive him, and I came up wanting. The truth is: I failed because I was a coward_. She needed to get away, to find somewhere private where she could deal with the feelings and thoughts washing through her. 

"I should go," Peyton told Don E., as she crossed her own arms and quickly turned away before he could see her crying too. She nearly jogged back towards her room, rushing in long, quick strides--racing against the full hysterical crying bout bubbling up within her chest.

"If I hadn't sabotaged him last time he tried to start over, would things have turned out differently?" Don called after her as she reached her door, and Peyton froze on the threshold for a moment. She couldn't fall down the rabbit hole of "what if" right now.

"It's not your fault, Don E.," she managed in a thick voice, before hurling herself inside the room and shutting the door immediately behind herself just in time for the first sob to wrack her. The sound tore itself free from her too tight throat... unable to contain it. It left her throat raw, and she knew she would be hoarse tomorrow from this.

She didn't bother with the lights, instead fumbling to the bed through the dark. She didn't even bother trying to unfasten her heels before climbing onto the mattress, where she curled herself around one of the pillows and cried until she felt completely hollow. Then she lay there feeling numb and gutted even after the sun had risen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another thing I started at end of last sping, and it's been sitting on my hard drive since July. Didn't want to post it until Bittersweet was close to finishing (we've got a few chapters left though), because that's been where I've been concentrating my time and I didn't want this sitting idle that long.
> 
> GCMS is short for Gas Chromatography Mass Spectrometry.
> 
> The fic title comes from the song by Garth Brooks (Chris Gaines). The original version is hard to find, but Rosie Thomas did a lovely cover.
> 
> https://youtu.be/xfnBGw7ZF4Q


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